


Rites of Womanhood

by jmtorres



Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: Cross-Generational Incest, Cunnilingus, F/F, Incest, Mentions of Menstruation, Witchcraft, archaic historically accurate equating hymen and virginity, canon typical discussion of abortion, dubcon probably applies though Joan tries very hard, enemies asking favors for old times' sake, future Devil/Hecate, having an F/F/F threesome does not make Hecate not a virgin for sacrifice to the Devil, menstruation is very witchy okay, past Joan/Evelyn, scars and brands, teaching an innocent young virgin how to have an orgasm, though she's not that innocent thanks to her mom, witchy stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:29:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22259506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmtorres/pseuds/jmtorres
Summary: Evelyn comes to ask Joan a favor. They parted ways years ago, but Evelyn would rather bring her daughter to womanhood in the ways of the old coven, rather than let the Devil do the deed.
Relationships: Joan Clayton/Evelyn Poole/Hecate Poole
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5
Collections: Holly Poly 2019





	Rites of Womanhood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [M J Holyoke (wholeyolk)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wholeyolk/gifts).



There was a knock on the door, a quick, confident rap--not timid. Girls, especially ones with problems they wanted Joan to correct, were usually a little timid. Nervous. Or conversely, desperate, beating on the door like they wanted to knock it down. This was neither, it was a simple, self-assured announcement of presence.

Joan yanked the door open and asked the girl anyway, "Got a baby you want me to cut out?"

The girl gave a little laugh, high and bell-like, like she'd been taught how to sound, to catch herself a rich, titled husband. "Not _yet,_ " she said. She looked over her shoulder, and Joan saw--

"Get inside," Joan said to the girl, stepping past and shoving her to the door.

"Sister," said Evelyn from the gate, beyond the stones that warded Joan's home. She wasn't trying to force her way in; that must be why Joan hadn't felt her. "Are you going to try to protect my own daughter from me?"

"She's human enough to walk up to the house, you can't have corrupted her too far yet," Joan said. 

"Only a matter of time," Evelyn said. "A fairly short amount of time, in fact. On Beltane, my master comes to claim her maidenhead." There was a studied indifference to how she said it. It mattered in some way she didn't want to admit. 

"Not a full daughter of the coven yet, then? But you claim her as such?" Joan asked. 

"Oh, no," Evelyn said. "That is her fate, of course, but..."

Joan looked back. The girl was standing in the doorway, just inside. Her hair was dark as Evelyn's, if a good deal curlier, and there was something about the shape of her eyes. Joan cut her chin back towards Evelyn. "Are you saying she's the child of your own womb?"

Evelyn shrugged elaborately.

Joan spat. "You're still fertile? You still bleed, after all this time?" 

"Did I not win eternal youth?" Evelyn asked, drawing up proud. "You could have had it, too. Could still have it, even."

"Can't say I miss it much," Joan snorted. Smooth skin, maybe, joints that didn't ache, sure. The cramps and bloody mess? Hardly. 

"It comes in handy for drawing sigils," Evelyn said lightly, touching the stone whose bloodmark kept her out. 

"And you want that for her. You say it's her fate, to serve your master alongside you."

"Mm," Evelyn agreed.

"Then why did you bring her to me?" Joan demanded.

"He wants her maidenhead, and he'll have it," Evelyn said. The Devil, she meant. "But that will be no easy thing, and I recalled... how sweet it was, to come into my power with you, when we were more innocent. I thought if I brought her here, we might give Hecate a gentler introduction to the pleasures of womanhood."

Joan barked a startled laugh. "You named her for one of the old gods? Did not your master take it as a slight?"

"If he cares, he hasn't said," Evelyn replied loftily. "Will you do it? Show her kindness? Will you let me in, and let us show her together?"

Joan huffed a breath at her. This was a trick, she was sure. Evelyn wanted into to her house, to plant some magic against her--and Joan had already let the girl, Hecate, in, unescorted, to do as she liked. Surely if Hecate had been able to pass the gate, she couldn't do much harm yet? Joan stared at Evelyn, trying to figure her out, what she wanted, after centuries apart, centuries when they had tolerated and ignored each other's existence. _I recalled how sweet it was._ Did Evelyn miss her? Could this be just a contrived excuse to come call on her? 

Evelyn was still waiting for an answer. Joan turned her back on her without giving one, and pushed Hecate out of the doorway into the house so she could slam the door in Evelyn's face. 

"Sit, girl," Joan said, pointing at a stool. Hecate obeyed, legs crossed, hands folded in her lap, very proper. "What do _you_ want? You want to serve the devil?"

Hecate laughed like she had when Joan had first opened the door, as if the question were absurd, bitter little bells. "I've no choice."

"No?" Joan asked. "Your maidenhead seals it, I gather. Suppose you gave it to some human boy before Beltane."

"Death," Hecate said simply.

"Suppose you ran to a convent, swore your maidenhead to God," Joan suggested. 

"Death," Hecate repeated. "He'd hunt me down and kill me. I'm marked for him--by him." She stood up abruptly, turning and lifting her jacket and untucking her fine linen shirt from her skirts and jerking her stays loose to show Joan three wide red scars, gashes across her back at the waist. 

So they mark them they want as much as those they cast out, Joan thought to herself. 

"And if I seek out death by my own hand, the Devil takes me still," Hecate added, with a note of formula in her tone. She had been warned thoroughly, if with rather modern notions. In the old world, the world from which her name had come, some had thought suicide wasteful, some thought it heroic, and none thought it punishable by eternal suffering. 

Hecate looked over her shoulder at Joan, and Joan reached out to touch the scars. They were smooth and shallow, healed long ago. "How old were you?" Joan asked.

"Five years," Hecate answered. 

"How old are you now?" Joan asked, withdrawing her hand.

"Fifteen," Hecate said, letting go of the cloth she held up, so it covered her skin again. 

"Is that something special in your Devil worship?" Joan asked. "Something to do with your pentagrams? Would have thought the Devil might pick unlucky thirteen, perhaps."

"No, it's not my age, particularly," Hecate said. She took her seat again, straightening her skirts with suddenly nervous hands. "He takes me this year because I have had first blood." 

Joan chewed that one over. "Does he mean to get you with child, then?" 

"I don't know," Hecate said, not as if she had not thought of it, but as if she did not wish to think on it. 

Joan swung up, gathering bits of this and that from the dried herbs she kept hanging on her wall. "Do you know your father?" she asked as she worked. 

"No," Hecate said. "Why?"

"Wondered if your mother got you with the Devil," Joan said, folding the herbs together in a little packet. She pressed it into Hecate's hand. "You make a tisane with that, and drink it down, and you'll be sick for three days--too sick to bear a child, understand? You'll lose it. You have to do that early, though, it's best done as soon as you miss your blood; if you wait until you're showing you'll have to come back to me to cut it out." 

"You'd do that?" Hecate asked, carefully putting the gift into a pocket in her skirts. "Risk the wrath of the Devil to kill his child?"

"What's it to me?" Joan said. "I already refused to serve him. What can he do to me that my old coven hasn't already done in his name?"

Hecate turned her head, as if thinking, as if there were something in her predicament she might yet solve. 

"Do you want to serve the Devil?" Joan asked her. "No one else can sell your soul, girl, not even your own mother." _Death, death, and the Devil takes me still, _she'd said.__

__"I want the power my mother has," Hecate said forthrightly. "I've already suffered for it; it's owed me."_ _

__"There's power enough to be had without serving that one," Joan said, gesturing around her house, at the tools of her craft._ _

__"Oh don't mistake me," Hecate said, "I'm grateful for your herbs and blessings, but this isn't power. You don't have power, not the way my mother does. You don't bend people to your will, make them give you whatever you want, make them do as pleases you. You live in a hovel and perform services for those that ask you, even as they hate you."_ _

__Joan sat back, considering her. She wasn't wrong; the power Joan had wasn't like what Evelyn wielded, and if you wanted to ability to enchant people to your control that way, then things as simple as Joan's knowing would not satisfy you. Hecate was too immersed in Evelyn's world to pull back._ _

__That left, then, only the question of the kindness Evelyn had asked. "You know why your mother brought you to me?" Joan asked._ _

__"An initiation, the old way, within the coven, not with the Devil," Hecate replied._ _

__"I'm not in her coven anymore," Joan said, still undecided on whether to agree to it. "I won't be your coven, not when you go to the Devil." She chewed her lip. "Don't see why she couldn't have done it with the witches she took with her. Surely they haven't all left her."_ _

__"Too afraid to cross him," Hecate said._ _

__"And you? Are you afraid the Devil will think you cheated him?" Joan asked._ _

__Hecate tossed her head, making her curls bounce. "He can have his pound of flesh, but not an ounce more."_ _

__It made Joan laugh a little, the idea that this girl wanted to dicker with the Devil, thought she could best him. Joan might not approve of her hunger for power, but she liked her anyway. "Well? And your mother, shall I call her in? It needs three, the old way," Joan said, for such numbers were special in her practice. The three faces of the goddess, maiden, mother and crone--and here Joan would be the crone, she thought, with pursed lips._ _

__"By all means," Hecate said, with a deep breath._ _

__Joan went out to where she'd let Evelyn. "Fine," she said, "we'll bring the girl in right, even if you do plan to ruin her after."_ _

__"Did you try to call her back to daylight?" Evelyn asked, cattily, pityingly._ _

__"Hmph," Joan muttered, and marked Evelyn in blood so she could enter._ _

__Evelyn swept in full of orders: telling her daughter to strip naked, demanding Joan produce mandrake root to hang over the bed. Joan rolled her eyes and tied up the root with lavender and clary sage, which would at least smell pleasant, and might do more to set the mood._ _

__Evelyn presumptuously took a seat at the head of Joan's bed, and told Hecate to lay herself down, head in her lap. Joan put her hands on her hips and asked, "And what part would you have me play, since you came here for my assistance?"_ _

__Evelyn gestured down the naked length of Hecate's body. "Do with her as you will."_ _

__Hecate, looking up at her mother, shivered a little. Her hands twitched, as if she wanted to cover herself, but she resolutely pressed her palms to the quilt on Joan's bed. "Have you touched yourself?" Joan asked gruffly, grabbing at her own crotch through her skirts in demonstration._ _

__"Yes," Hecate said, her voice small, much less sure than when Joan had spoken to her before. Joan couldn't tell if her sacrificial posture made her nervous, or the presence of her mother._ _

__"Have you known completion?" Joan asked._ _

__Hecate frowned prettily, and asked, "What do you mean?"_ _

__Joan climbed onto the end of the bed, setting Hecate's ankles apart so she could sit between them, stroking the girl's calf. "When you touch until your breath comes fast, and your muscles seize and you cannot bear to keep on, and warm lethargy overtakes you."_ _

__"No, I have not known this," Hecate said, clearly, then glanced up at her mother, who was idly running her knuckles along Hecate's neck._ _

__"Not everyone needs to stop after one," Evelyn reminded Joan._ _

__"Everyone has enough eventually," Joan said, shrugging._ _

__"Will I know completion with our master?" Hecate asked her mother, and Joan noted the change in term; she had said the Devil when speaking with Joan. Was she echoing whoever she spoke to, or did she refuse to consider him a master, except to pacify her mother?_ _

__"It depends on his mood, my love," Evelyn murmured. "Sometimes he wishes to bind you to him with such pleasure, sometimes he only uses your body to seek his own, you will take whichever you are given and thank him for it."_ _

__Joan pressed her lips together to keep in what she thought of that. It wasn't her concern. Teaching the girl pleasure here and now was. She sighed and said, "Show me your cunt, girl, show me how you've touched yourself."_ _

__Hecate bit her lip and spread her legs. She split her labia with her fingers, and stroked along them, up and down the soft flesh alongside her vagina. "Is that--" she started to ask, and then seemed not to know what she wanted to say._ _

__"Is it good? You like that?" Joan asked. She put her thumbs alongside Hecate's fingers, holding her open. Hecate nodded, wordless._ _

__Evelyn, watching hungrily, reached down to cup one of Hecate's breasts. Joan watched back, curious, rubbing at Hecate's lips. "You going to show her proper?" Evelyn asked._ _

__Joan grunted. "Here's the spot you missed, girl," Joan said, and slid her thumbs up, pressing against the hooded point at the top of her inner lips, grinding in and then gentling to a soft swipe._ _

__"Oh," Hecate breathed, gratifyingly._ _

__Joan bent down, slow, damn her old bones, and licked it. Hecate bucked up a little in surprise, which Joan took as an excuse to pin down her thighs with her own forearms. Leaning on the girl's strong flesh was a damn sight more comfortable than hunching over her. Joan settled in, marveling at her muscles. The girl was pretty in a pampered lady's way, but she had put in effort at something to get such thighs. Horse riding? They felt like a rider's thighs, though Joan wondered that she'd been allowed to ride astride, if her maidenhead was at stake. Still licking high, Joan shifted one hand to slide a finger deeper into her cunt._ _

__Hecate squirmed under her more, asking, "Is that--is that allowed?"_ _

__Joan lifted her face to say, "You've still a hymen, I'm not breaking it, only stretching a little. The Devil's cock may go in a mite easier." She went back to her work, licking and sucking and crooking her finger, making Hecate quiver under her._ _

__Evelyn had been playing with Hecate's nipples when Joan looked up. Joan hadn't thought anything in particular of it, but then Evelyn started talking, tone low and seductive as she told Hecate why: "You used to bite at my breasts as a babe, do you know? All babes do, of course, they don't know any better. Blunt with your little gums when you were new, but in time you grew such sharp little teeth--"_ _

__Hecate gasped, and Joan glanced up with her mouth still sealed tight between the girl's lips, to see Evelyn pinching the girl's nipple between her long fingernails._ _

__"Do you like it, daughter?" Evelyn asked, soothing one nipple with he pads of her fingertips, and using the sharp edges of her nails on the other._ _

__"Oh yes, mother," Hecate cried, pushing her chest up a little._ _

__"Good," Evelyn purred. "So did I, my love, you shocked me with such pleasure."_ _

__They both toyed with her for a long while; Joan's own slurping was the loudest noise in her ears but she listened for Hecate's quickening breath, and could hear Evelyn murmuring softly how pretty she was, how she planned to cut even prettier marks in Hecate's breasts, planned to slice the points of a pentagram across her nipples. Joan thought Evelyn was perhaps making her own job harder, scaring Hecate off from the spasms of pleasure Joan was trying to induce, but when Hecate finally did convulse, her mother was twisting hard on her nipples, so perhaps the girl liked punishment, or had at least learned already how to swallow fear and bear up under it._ _

__Hecate went limp at last, and Joan let her rest a few moments, letting go of her lips and petting her thighs, where she wouldn't be so sensitive, telling her she'd been good, done well, earned her sweet reward. Hecate breathed long, slow, heavy breaths as she came down, flushed and relaxed, sinking into the bed. When her eyes fluttered open, Joan said, "Do you think you understand the way of it, now? What to do with _your_ mouth, on my cunt?"_ _

__"Yes, yes I can--" Hecate made to get up, and Joan pushed her down, hand on her belly._ _

__"You stay there, girl," Joan said, crawling up her body. Joan wasn't naked like Hecate, but she also wasn't wearing idiot rich masses of petticoats, so pulling her skirt up wasn't so hard. Evelyn shifted, moving Hecate's head out of her lap so Joan could put her knees down, kneel over the girl's face. Hecate breathed up on her, not starting, and Joan said, "Yes? You know what you're about? Or you need more instruction?"_ _

__"I'm, I need my hands, I think?" Hecate asked, wriggling her arm free, settling it over Joan's thigh, reaching under her skirt to part her lips._ _

__"Good girl," Evelyn said approvingly, and Hecate's eyes rolled up to look at her, where she sat behind her._ _

__Hecate breathed deep, and put her tongue out to touch Joan's flesh. "Use more spit," Joan told her immediately; her tongue dragged practically like a cat's, but not because she was a witch. "Use every bit of spittle you can muster, girl, I am not eternally youthful so I don't slick up like you."_ _

__Hecate made a muffled sound of acknowledgement and pushed her open mouth against Joan's cunt. Joan gave a pleased sigh and pushed back, taking her pleasure._ _

__Evelyn kissed Joan on her mouth, open and every bit as wet as Hecate below. She played with Joan's breasts through her clothes, like they had as girls, when they were just finding their way._ _

__Joan rode there for a while, knowing she was taking longer than she would have when she was younger, than Hecate had, but knowing also that in a proper initiation, the peak was part of the magic, so she couldn't let the girl off the hook and say it was enough, that she was old and tired and didn't need it. In the end, Evelyn helped Hecate along more directly, adding her fingers to her daughter's tongue, rubbing Joan's clit rough and direct alongside Hecate's gentle, slippery touches, until completion shuddered out of her._ _

__Joan slid to one side, falling across the bed, letting her leg lay over Hecate's torso. "Good girl," she repeated, catching her fingers in Hecate's long curls._ _

__"Turn over," Evelyn ordered Hecate, hiking up her own skirts. "You've one more task, daughter. Come pay your respects to that from whence you came."_ _

__Joan tried to reclaim her leg as Hecate slithered onto her belly, but Evelyn put her hand on her knee, so Joan stayed there, entangled, her withered old bones now laying across Hecate's scars. She wondered if they hurt; if they hurt always or if Hecate ever forgot about them, but the pressure upon them might make them flare up in her awareness. She didn't ask, just put a hand on Hecate's shoulder and rubbed at her softly, encouragingly, as she leaned into the final piece of ritual, the pleasure of her mother and the head witch of her coven._ _

__\---_ _

__Later, when they had gone, Joan went through her house carefully, and found a witch's ladder, a coiled length of twine knotted around black crow feathers and daubed with blood, hidden in a corner. When she had pulled the entire length of it up, she found the end was tied around a fragment of silver-backed glass; it was a spell for spying, then. Somewhere one of them would chant over another sliver of glass from the same broken mirror and try to see into her home. She sniffed at the blood, trying to guess whether it was menstrual or venous; but it was too long dried for her to be able to tell._ _

__Joan spent an evening picking apart all the knots to undo the spell, then burned all the pieces: the feathers as she freed them, the twine when it had all come loose, and lastly the bit of mirror, watching until the silver clouded black._ _


End file.
